


Fish and Chips

by chaineddove



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-25
Updated: 2009-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:45:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaineddove/pseuds/chaineddove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaho isn’t a very good cook, a very good housekeeper, or a very good anything traditional – not very marriageable, her great-aunt calls her, looking disapproving – but she does try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fish and Chips

Kaho isn’t a very good cook, a very good housekeeper, or a very good anything traditional – not very marriageable, her great-aunt calls her, looking disapproving – but she does try. When her work keeps them in Japan for extended periods of time, she researches English food in her school’s library – there are countless notebooks of handwritten recipes in the kitchen, but she somehow feels that looking at them would be cheating – and puts together an ingredient list, which she takes to the supermarket.

She manages the fish all right, and even the potatoes, though she is sorely tempted for a few moments to just go to the closest fast food restaurant and order French fries. She doesn’t do quite so well with the mushy peas; they don’t end up mushy so much as clumped around her fork in a congealed mess of cement-like consistency.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. His smile is warm and his eyes are bright with baffled happiness. “You cooked.”

She tries not to fidget. “You’ve been missing England,” she says, by way of explanation.

“The only thing edible in England is Chinese food,” Nakuru says haughtily. Eriol looks at her, his expression carefully blank. “Maybe Indian?” she says hopefully.

“I think we should go now,” Spinnel says dryly. He is tiny, but he manages to bustle her out of the dining room anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Kaho says, feeling sillier with every moment that goes by. “I know I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

Before she can escape back to the kitchen with her greenish mixture, he grabs her hand and pulls her down into the chair next to his. “It looks delicious,” he tells her.

“It isn’t, really,” she says, turning a little pink.

He smiles again, picks up the fork, and breaks off a bit of fish. “For me, it is.” The look on his face is so earnest, she believes him.


End file.
